


Leviathan

by benferris



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Artist!Harry, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Punk!Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-03
Updated: 2013-09-03
Packaged: 2017-12-25 12:15:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/952972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benferris/pseuds/benferris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's totally casual. Harry makes art and Louis is grumpy and sells people flowers and they have sex.<br/>Except that it's totally not casual at all because fuzzy feelings and cuddling and love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leviathan

Harry is almost entirely certain having semi-frequent sex with the boy from the flower store across from his studio who he is at least ninety percent sure he's in love with is a terrible idea. Harry is even more certain he doesn't want it to stop.  
The thing is, Louis is the complete opposite of Harry, he doesn't get Harry's art or the music he listens to or the films he watches and while Harry is all soft curls and warm smiles, Louis is red hair and piercings and tattoos and sarcastic comments. There's something about the way they contrast that makes it comfortable, Harry thinks, and maybe he wears his heart on his sleeve but Harry can see it, under the facade, Louis is just as soft and kind.

-

Harry had gone to buy his mum flowers as an apology, because even if she knew him well enough to know the lack of phone calls or visits home wasn't intentional, he always felt the same wave of guilt wash over his conscious knowing she worried about him. 

Louis is in a bad mood because it's only his first day and of course the register is playing up and EFTPOS is down and his back still hurts from when he tripped over in his rush to get to work on time for his first day.  
"Cash only today." He says –sounding more like a grunt than any actual words– when the little bell above the door jingles, not even bothering to look up from his mystery novel.  
"Lucky I have cash then." Harry says and his voice is thick and it catches Louis attention instantly, his eyes snapping up and his breath maybe hitches at the sight of big dimples and sparkling eyes. Maybe. He would deny it if asked.  
"Well, let me know if you need help." Louis tells him and it's not exactly rude but there's a sharpness to his voice that is always there when speaking to strangers, Louis isn't even sure how he managed to end up in a customer service job. He doesn't go back to his book as the boy wanders around the cramped store though, Louis can't really help but track his movements as he leans in to smell a few of the flowers, humming to himself. Louis has never seen anyone quite so beautiful, and he thinks maybe that is a strange adjective to use for a boy, but it is exactly what the boy is. Louis wonders who gets to kiss him, gets to run their fingers through his curls and tug lightly until the indents in his cheeks are showing, or until he's moaning. He looks over to Louis behind the little wooden counter, smile still on his pink lips.  
"What's a good flower to give as an apology?"  
"Who'd you piss off?"  
"Ha, nobody, just haven't spoken to my mum in a few weeks and I know she loves flowers. I get caught up in my work y'know and suddenly it's been a week and I haven't left my studio."  
Louis isn't really sure if this boy is real.  
"Well, my mum is a fan of tulips." Louis suggests, because really he doesn't have a clue what any of the flowers mean, he's still trying to get his around the basics of trying not to strangle stupid customers. He's had a lot of those already.

-

"Who are you apologizing to this time?" He asks when the curly haired boy, the one that had been running circuits in his mind, had stepped through the door in a loose shirt, blinding yellow trainers and little shorts that were entirely sinful, entirely too much of his long legs showing.  
"No apologies today." He says and goes straight for the red roses. Harry was getting them for Liam and Zayn, his best friends, they'd called only half an hour earlier to tell him he was needed at their place so they could share some exciting news. Harry figured Zayn had probably finally popped the question and flowers were in order for such an occasion.  
"Some girls find roses cliché, just fyi." Louis remarks.  
"Oh." And then, "Do you think red roses are cliché?" He asks, suddenly unsure about his choice of flowers but Louis just makes a noncommittal shrug because really, why would his opinion matter?  
"Right then, i'll just get the red roses." Harry says, adding a 'so helpful' under his breath, which Louis definitely catches. "They're for my best friends, think they just got engaged."  
"You think?" Louis says in disbelief.  
"They've been together for years and really it's just a matter of time and they called to say they have some exciting news."  
"Could've accidentally gotten preggers."  
"I mean, i'm a bit oblivious to the outside world but I don't think guys can get pregnant."  
"Right." Louis says and that's that.  
As Harry goes to leave he hesitates by the door, turning back to Louis who is still watching him. Louis can't really stop watching him, thinks he could probably do it for the rest of his life. He pulls out one of the roses from the bunch, stepping back to place it in front of Louis, cheeks flushed pink under his mid-summer tan.  
"I think you're extremely pretty."

-

Harry had been wrong.  
Liam was the one that had proposed.

-

Louis sees Harry again the next day and that's when it happens.  
Louis has just finished work and Harry is across the road struggling with the key to his building.  
"Hey!" He calls across the road and a few passersby glance his way, but he pays them no mind. Harry also looks up and Louis takes this as his invitation to storm across the road, get up into Harry's personal space.  
"I have a bone to pick with you. I am not pretty." Harry has to pause for a moment to take in his words but then he's grinning, crinkled eyes and all.  
"Oh, you definitely are."  
"I am anything but pretty. Flowers and baby animals and little sisters are pretty. I am not pretty."  
"If you say so." Louis glares up at him and really it only makes it even funnier and Harry has to try and stifle a laugh.  
"I am sexy, and tough and manly."  
"Prove it." Harry says, and there's a challenging edge to his voice that gets to Louis instantly.  
"Bastard." He mutters before he grabs the front of Harry's cardigan, pulling him down to connect their lips.  
When Louis fucks Harry it's urgent and a little rough and it's exactly what both of them had wanted.

"Still think you're pretty." Harry mutters, his breathing still uneven and Louis is still hovering over his chest, pumping himself and Louis just manages to grab Harry's jaw in time to come over his lips and chin in spite.

–

It's winter and there isn't heating in Harry's studio so he's got on extra layers that still don't seem to keep the bite out of the air, his fingers still feel like they're about to snap but above all else Harry is stubborn and passionate in his work and he just wants to be able to finish the piece he's been slaving over for the past week, needs to really because he can't really think straight when he has a piece to finish.

"Oi, Artist Boy, open up!" Harry visibly flinches at the sound of Louis' voice, snapping out of his somewhat fanatic mindset, silently thanking Louis because Louis is a good, warm, cuddly, distraction. Even if Louis tries to pretend he doesn't like cuddles as much as Harry, he isn't all that good at keeping up his tough act around Harry.  
"Jesus, Haz, you have Jack Frost over for tea?" Louis asks as Harry lets him in and once the door is shut behind him Harry instinctively crowds into Louis' personal space, burying his head into the crook of his neck, fingers slipping under Louis' shirt to steal his warmth.  
"'M cold." He mutters, quite content with the idea of a personal Louis-sized heater.  
"No shit."

Harry finally finishes the piece he had been working on the next night and he texts Louis even if it's far too late, telling him to come over after work the next day.  
 **You just want me for my body heat… or maybe just my body**  
And well, maybe that was a little bit of it. Mostly he just doesn't feel right sleeping by himself anymore.

Louis is standing at Harry's door after work with a giant machine that looks like maybe it's a generator, Harry doesn't really know.  
"What is that?"  
"Industrial heater." Louis says simply, pushing past Harry to set said heater down in his working space. "Dad had it in the garage from when he used to work on houses during winter, said you could have it."  
"Love your dad right about now." Harry mutters, practically buzzing as Louis plugs it in.  
"It'll probably cost you an arm and a leg to run but I couldn't stand the thought of you cooped up in this cold every day." They crowd into the heater and each other until the rest of the studio starts to warm up and Harry can bring himself to pull away from Louis, his entire body seeming less tense from the welcome warmth of both the heater and Louis.  
"Dad said as a thank you he would like you to join us for dinner one night."  
Harry's mouth goes dry because Louis had been friends with benefits or whatever they were for months now and of course Harry had told his mum all about the boy covered in tattoos who stole all his food and sometimes made him flower crowns when he came over during his lunch break but Harry had never considered the idea that Louis talked about him too. And Louis and Harry, they weren't a _thing_ , and Louis was well aware they weren't a _thing_ , and yet here he was, getting invites from the parents of the boy he specifically does not have a _thing_ with.  
"Not like– he doesn't know we…" Louis trails off, doesn't know what to say, or doesn't want to say the truth. "We're friends though, right? This isn't just about sex for you, is it? You don't subject me to your shitty indie films just so i'll suck you off because if that's the case, you can stop."  
"Please, if this was just about sex I wouldn't make you food whenever you asked." Harry thinks maybe it's easier to joke about these things, because his real feelings are scary and he tries not to think too much about them.  
"So yeah, dinner at my place sometime?"  
"It's a plan."

-

And Louis' entire family loves Harry, not that Louis is at all surprised, especially when Harry does quick sketches of all his sisters when asked.  
Louis pointedly ignores the looks his mum gives him.

-

Harry's studio had never meant to be his living space, but at some point long nights turn into sleeping on the ratty old sofa and a few nights turned into every night and then all of his clothes were strewn across the floor of the little area above the studio where the couch and a little television resided and eventually he gave in and bought a proper mattress and it sort of just happened. Louis happened in much the same way, gradually and then with a sudden realisation that oh, this was Harry's life now.  
The realisation came when Niall showed up one day, hands full of grocery bags, an already opened bag or crisps sticking out the top of one of them.  
"All right, mate? We've made an executive decision that tonight we are pulling you away from your weird art inspired by Louis' spine or skin or bum or whatever and we're gonna catch up and watch films until we fall asleep. Ziam are on their way now."  
Ziam was the nickname Niall had conjured up for their best friends, he had decided since they came as a package deal they deserved a singular name. It was utterly ridiculous and totally adorable because really, it kind of worked.  
Harry was mostly just thanking his lucky stars that Louis was upstairs, still asleep in his bed and oblivious to Niall's previous comment.  
"Uh– okay, so, Louis is here." He says wearily and Niall just grins.  
"Fantastic, there's more than enough food."

Harry climbs the ladder up to his small bedroom, takes a moment to take in the sight of Louis curled into his bed like it's home before he crawls over and cuddles into him, nudging him awake.  
"What'd you want?"  
"Niall is here, and Zayn and Liam are coming over." Louis eyes shoot open, staring up at Harry.  
"Why didn't you tell me? I'm naked and I have sex hair, this is not the impression I want to make when I meet your best friends."  
"Lou, I think they know what we get up to." Louis just kicks Harry halfheartedly. "My pants are somewhere downstairs, go get them for me."  
"I think that'll just draw more attention to the situation."  
"This is your fault, you're the one that pushed me up against the door."  
"Your bum looks really good in those jeans, it is entirely your own fault." Louis hides his smile in Harry's pillow that mostly just smells like him now.  
He's not sure how this turned into him staying most nights.  
"Borrow some of my clothes and i'll meet you downstairs, Niall probably already thinks we're having a quickie."  
Harry kisses Louis quickly, sort of can't help himself and rushes clumsily back down to the kitchen, tries to pretend that it's entirely okay that his best friends are meeting Louis like this.

Louis rummages through Harry's drawers until he finds the little shorts he remembers Harry wearing the second day they met and grins, slipping them on along with a pair of Harry's socks and a jumper that is entirely too baggy but feels warm and just like Harry.

Louis hears them before he sees them but it's a small square studio and he only has to turn his head to see the huddle in Harry's doorway, all staring at him. Harry's mouth falls open a little, eyes blown and dark, if Louis wasn't so nervous he'd probably be laughing at Harry's reaction to Louis' chosen attire.  
"Uh, hi, i'm Louis." He gets out, still standing on the ladder. Niall is the first to react, laughing loudly.  
"Mate, you have sex hair." He points out. "I'm Niall, that's Ziam." Both Liam and Zayn rolls their eyes before Zayn pipes up.  
"I'm Zayn, this is Liam, please excuse the leprechaun."  
"Rude." Niall says, kicking Zayn and Louis smiles, lets out a breath he hadn't realised he had been holding because he realises he has no reason to be nervous. These were Harry's best friends and anyone that Harry cared about that much must be incredible.  
So Liam and Zayn crowd into the old couch and Niall, Louis and Harry all fall onto the mattress on the floor and they chatter loudly, not paying attention to whatever film they had put on until the early hours of the morning, until Louis falls asleep on Harry and they all tell Harry how much they like Louis and Harry smiles bashfully, wondering how he ended up with the four best friends he could ever ask for, wonders if Louis knows he considers him a best friend. 

Harry wakes up before the others, still pressed into Louis with the DVD menu playing on repeat and he quietly gets up and turns it off, going downstairs to make them all breakfast because it's warm and Harry feels happier than he has in a long time.  
It's only a few minutes before he hears shuffling above his head.  
"Not Harry." He hears Niall mutter sleepily and it's followed by a soft apology from Louis and Harry can imagine the pair cuddled in his bed, bets Louis hadn't moved after his apology, just nuzzled into Niall's back further.  
"Hey, Louis?" Niall asks after awhile.  
"Yeah?"  
"Can I ask you something, about you and Harry?"  
"'Course."  
"What are your intentions with our boy?" Harry hears Zayn and Liam giggle and Harry wants to groan but he thinks maybe this is a conversation he would like to hear so he keeps quiet, pretends he isn't hearing the conversation going on above his head.  
There's too much silence to make Harry feel entirely comfortable before Louis comes up with an answer for Niall's question.  
"I– I just want to enjoy whatever it is that we have."  
"The thing is, Louis, Harry gets so lost in his own world–"  
"I know."  
"But what you don't get is because of that he doesn't seem to think he's good enough for a relationship, thinks he'll wind up hurting someone but I think really, Harry is too scared to put himself into that situation because he doesn't half ass anything, relationships included, and from the outside maybe it doesn't seem like that and maybe even he doesn't realise that but, I've– we've never met anyone more loving and caring, and so he's built up walls to stop himself from getting hurt because when he lets people in, there is no going back. The thing is though, I think maybe whatever it is that you guys have, it means a lot more to him than he'd like to admit."  
Harry thinks maybe he needs to sit down for a minute.  
Or ten.  
"Well," He hears Louis say after awhile, and Harry has been paying entirely too much attention to the conversation not meant for his ears and no attention to the bacon and eggs, which were almost at the point of no return.  
He couldn't seem to find a reason to care.  
"I'm kind of in love with him, so there's that."  
Right, Harry thinks.  
Okay.  
He definitely needs to sit down, or cry, or laugh, or something.  
Instead he just turns the element off and retreats to the bathroom, sitting down on the toilet seat with his knees up trying to keep his breathing steady until he can hear a commotion, mostly Niall, in the kitchen over their burnt breakfast and his whereabouts.  
"Harry?" Comes Liam's voice through the door.  
"Hmm."  
"You okay?"  
"Can you come in?" He asks, voice shakier than he expected but yeah, Liam is good, Liam is exactly who he needs right now. Liam lets himself in since there had never been a lock on the door, smiling softly at Harry as he sat down on the floor, taking Harry's hands in his own.  
"Wanna talk?"  
"Yeah."  
"How about starting with why breakfast is burnt and why you're sat in the bathroom?"  
"I– um, I heard Niall and Louis' conversation before."  
"All of it?"  
"Yeah. I'm just trying to process it, it's a lot to take in."  
"Do you feel the same?"  
"'Course, thought it was pretty obvious." Liam laughs.  
"It was, just a bit, just checking."  
"Even to Louis?"  
"I think he's as oblivious to the world as you are, you're a good pair really."  
"What do I do?" Harry asks, glad to know he has friends who are far wiser than him to go to.  
"I think, you tell him, or maybe show him your latest collection, I mean we all wanna see it anyway."  
"He doesn't get my art."  
"He still loves it though, you get that, right? I hope you don't think just because he doesn't get what you're saying with it doesn't mean he doesn't love it. And this work– I think he'll get this work."  
"Okay." Harry says, though he's not entirely convinced. "Just, give me a minute, yeah?" Liam leaves Harry be and he just sits there for a few minutes, trying to slow his thoughts down to a pace he can handle.

When he finally gets up the courage to venture back into the kitchen Niall is eating the burnt food out of the pan, of course he is, and Louis is sleepily talking to Liam and Zayn, all four of them squashed in the small space that is his kitchen.  
"Morning, you okay?" Louis says, smiling softly and it all seems like so much more now, makes Harry's heart beat so much faster knowing that it means the same to Louis as it does to him.  
"G'morning. Yeah, i'm good." He needs to do this now, he decides, before he can back out.  
So.  
"Guys, can I show your my new work?"  
"Please!" Zayn says, lighting up and Harry loves that they love his work, not just because they're his best friends but because they genuinely think he's talented, which still kind of baffles him.  
"Yes please. I think this will be your best work yet." Niall adds as they trail behind him.  
With the exception of Louis they had all been through this process before, of Harry falling into his work for weeks or months on end, neglecting everything else until he finally felt finished and he would let them all come over and see it before anyone else.  
"So, it's not finished yet." He tells them, and it doesn't really surprise the three of them because they all know what it's about, but they understand the importance of him showing them anyway. Liam squeezes Harry's hip for a moment. "I did a lot of experimenting, it's all on paper rather than canvas and i've never really worked with watercolours before but I think so far I like it." He tells them as he carefully lays out the pieces of work on the oversized wooden table and none of them make a move to step closer until Harry himself steps back from the bench. They're all silent for a long time and he lets them be, watches as they move around the table to examine Harry's work and this is always the scariest part for him, worse than any clients or curators looking over his work, because these are the people that know Harry, that can see the bits of his soul in each piece.  
He knows they can see the lines and colours of Louis, see the lines of his back or the curve of his tummy. He wonders if Louis can see that too.  
Louis slots himself into Harry's side, arm around his waist.  
"I'm not like being an arrogant twat or anything if I ask if it's about me, am I?"  
"No." Harry says simply because his chest feels lighter than it ever had and he doesn't really know what to do with that.  
"It's not just about you," Liam cuts in softly. "it is you. It's how he sees you, or your personality. Am I right, Haz?" Liam looks up at Harry then for confirmation and he sort of wants to cry. Harry knew that Liam, Zayn and Niall too, knew the small details of his mind that he didn't share, that only came with loving someone so intensely and Harry had always known they loved him, but it still catches him off guard when he realises it again, chokes him up.  
"Yeah." He says simply, can't really say much past the lump in his throat.  
"I love it. You're something else Harry Styles."  
"Says you. I love you, you get that right?" He says, because even if he's pretty sure it's obvious from his paintings, he just needs to say the words, to be able to share them mutually with Louis.  
"Love you too, you oblivious oaf."  
"You're just as bad!"  
"If I ask you to be my boyfriend will you forgive me for being so oblivious?"  
"It's possible."  
"Be my boyfriend?"  
"'Course."  
"Good." And that's that. A kiss on the cheek and a soft hug.

After awhile, after they all hug Harry tightly and tell them how proud they are of him, Harry starts breakfast again and Zayn makes coffee and Louis smiles at the scene.  
It felt like home.  
Zayn passes out mismatched mugs of black coffee and Harry watches Niall kiss Zayn full on the mouth with a soft smile as a thanks. His eyes shoot towards Liam in alarm but he is paying them no mind.  
"What was that?" He asks loudly over the chatter.  
"It's nothing." Niall comments with a noncommittal shrug.  
"It's sometimes something." Liam adds and Jesus Christ, what? Today was too much already.  
"You three? Really?"  
"Sometimes."  
"Is it like, just sex, or something else because if it's something else you know you can't have like a three-way marriage, right?"  
"We were curious and it's fun."  
"And you never bothered to tell me, you shits, I tell you about my sex life."  
"You do?" Louis asks, maybe a little nervous as to how much detail Harry has gone into.  
"We never asked to know how good you think it feels to have Louis' dick down your throat, or that you think it should be the official 8th Wonder of the World."  
"Excuse me," Harry is quick to cut in before Zayn goes on, or before Louis feels the need to comment on this piece of information, though Harry is sure he'll hear about it later. "You're just trying to distract me. So, how often does this happen?"  
"Just whenever." Harry gapes at them.  
"I can't believe you guys."  
"Are you jealous we didn't invite you too?"  
"Are you trying to say i'm not enough for him? Because i've heard my dick is basically the 8th Wonder of the World." Louis butts in and yeah, Harry is glad he has Louis.  
"It's too early for this." Liam comments. It sums it up perfectly for Harry.

After Niall, Liam and Zayn had finally said goodbye after breakfast and teasing goodbyes from both parties, Harry presses Louis into the mattress and fucks him. He smells of flowers and pants Harry's name into the small gap of air between them, begs for moremoremore.  
Harry isn't really used to this version of love, full of passion and need and so much happiness but he thinks he quite likes it.


End file.
